All you have is your fire
by redpurpleblack
Summary: Maybe in another life they will have just enough time (and courage) to do what they truly want. / Sampernia
1. Chapter 1

Title: _All you have is your fire_

Fandom: _Dragon Age_

Characters/Pairings: Calpernia, Samson; Sampernia

Rating: T

Warnings: spoilers for DA Inquisition

Summary: Maybe in another life they will have just enough time (and courage) to do what they truly want.

Disclaimer: _Dragon Age_ is not mine.

A/N:

Aeliana Erimond mentioned in this story belongs to Venatohru (you may find her on tumblr).

Aeliana is one of those incredibly believable OCs that you wish were canon. You may read more about her on venatohru's tumblr.

Title from _Arsonist's Lullabye_ by Hozier. This is the last story of the series.

* * *

Observing the Red Templars preparing for their greatest battle, Calpernia can taste excitement in the air. Obviously her own feelings regarding the situation are far from enthusiasm, but she won't let her personal opinions get in the way. Corypheus made his decision, it's not her place to question him.

Her eyes look for the red knight walking among the monsters. Samson looks like a stray dog leading his pack. _They certainly seem as loyal as dogs_ , Calpernia idly muses. Her gaze doesn't want to leave him as she watches him from a distance, wondering how many of his soldiers will be sacrificed so the Elder One can triumph. All of them, perhaps.

When one of the Venatori dies, she knows their death won't be for nothing. They shouldn't be afraid, their death serves a purpose (or so she tells herself). _Ars moriendi_ , as some say. It's different when a Red Templar dies. Samson mourns as if his own child died. It's difficult to say what he sees when he looks at those deformed monsters. It's not that she _asked_ him about it.

His silent obedience is convenient but this time she finds herself wanting to ask him a whole lots of things. She would like to listen to him talk about the Free Marches. And Kirkwall, because the City of Chains fascinates her in some twisted way. Her agents provided all the information she needed, but _knowing_ something about Samson, now that would be interesting. It's too late now. Maybe in another life they will have just enough time (and courage) to do what they truly want.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, she nearly gives in and walks right to him because she wants to hear him saying–

(anything; she likes the sound of his voice)

– how proud he is that he was chosen instead of her because she is nothing, and she will always be nothing but a girl with a dream too big for her silly mind. It would make everything so much easier if he could just admit how much he hates her, and how he wants her to rot here while he is conquering all Thedas in the name of their god.

It's not true. Or maybe it is, Calpernia isn't sure anymore. Something is scratching the back of her mind with a long claw, so persistent it nearly drives her mad. Her grip on her staff tightens, hands shaking, and she's certain she will soon hate herself for her pathetic dreams that mean nothing in the grand plan of gods.

Samson turns his head away. Maybe because he respects her too much. Or perhaps he doesn't care about her at all.

* * *

When the night comes, she's dizzy with doubt. Calpernia looks in the mirror, amazed that her reflection didn't change. She should simply accept her fate of being no one important, someone left behind. If only the ache inside her chest would go away.

Everyone always wants her to _do something_. What if she doesn't want to do anything this time? What if she decides to stay away from everything – everyone – and simply let things happen?

So she drinks a potion that offers a promise of dreamless sleep, silencing whatever persistent thoughts she has. Calpernia closes her eyes, and lets herself pretend she truly doesn't care about anything. When she wakes up, something feels odd. She searches for her magic, but the flames feel distant and cold in the prison of her mind. She blames the potion she drank (deep down she knows she can only blame herself).

The ache still coils insider her, she notices with a frown as she gets up in the dull morning light. Nothing else matters, all her thoughts disappear, her mind focused on one need she can't supress any longer. Cursing her own stupidity, Calpernia gathers what's left of her strength and leaves the room. Her whole body feels so cold and unnatural she wonders if her blood froze.

Running through the halls she looks more like a ghost, a creature from the other side of the Veil searching for something lost.

When she stops, hesitant, she takes a deep breath before opening the door without knocking. Her eyes scan the room, but there's nothing left. Flames in the fireplace are slowly dying out, giving barely any light. He's not here and he's taken everything he had with him leaving nothing behind. The room is so dark, cold and distant that a shiver runs down her spine. Feeling numb, she walks to the narrow bed and sits down. All hope she had disappears completely.

 _They always leave_.

For the first time since the Elder One came to her and broke her chains, Calpernia doesn't know what to do, and it feels like dying. Her magic comes back, a reminder that she can't give up, not yet, not _ever_ , not until she sees the change she wants to bring.

She fights with the numbness that threatens to overpower her body, and sits up. It's time to move or else she might stay here forever, turn into a statue or disappear. It's no use wondering about _whys_ and _ifs_ , she has to focus on doing. A plan slowly forms in her head. There are many things she needs to set in motion. It is comforting to know that her path leads… Somewhere. To salvation, perhaps. She's just not sure anymore.

The Elder One already made his decision. Now it's time for her to choose. It's a gamble, and part of her feels like a traitor – but then again, didn't Corypheus betray her first? She's still alive meaning she can still do _something_. There are no chains holding her back.

When her feet touch the floor, Calpernia turns her head to see there's something laying on the table, glistening in the firelight.

She has seen it so many times before. It's a simple shape of a bird with outstretched wings, made from a scrap of metal. When the realisation hits her, something inside her snaps open.

Flames in the fireplace crack once, twice, then die, disappearing into thin air as if they were merely an illusion.


	2. Chapter 2

_Epilogue_

* * *

It's been... weeks. How many exactly, Calpernia isn't sure. Time stands still when she sits in her cell– her _room_. _You are not a prisoner_ , Leliana reminds her. But of course they observe her every move, every smallest gesture. She knows so much, she's too valuable. She surrendered, and wants to cooperate, thus the Inquisition will allow her to prove she's useful.

Calpernia didn't know what awaits her once she gets to Skyhold. What if the Inquisitor wouldn't want to listen to her? They took her staff and everything she had with her, gave new clothes, a simple purple robe like the ones Circle mages wear here, her old clothes examined before they were most likely destroyed.

She has nothing that truly belongs to her, except for one small, harmless thing. _It means nothing_ , she lied when they asked about it, feeling a divine sort of relief when they allowed her to keep it. She wears it all the time, a reminder, a _promise_ she intends to keep no matter what.

Calpernia's fingers brush her neck at times, expecting to touch a collar with a chain just waiting to be pulled. Then her hands find a string with a small metal shape hanging from it. It's enough for her to remember that not all is lost.

They ask, and ask, and _ask_. Calpernia tells them enough so they pretend to believe her. The fact that they know so much about her is like a slap to the face. One day she will have to congratulate the spymaster her impressive skills of obtaining information. For now, Calpernia only answers their questions, telling them everything she knows.

Her god is dead, what else is left.

* * *

All she hears are rumours about groups of Venatori declaring they want to join the Inquisition. She can only hope the letters she wrote reached everyone in time. Sometimes she wonders if she ever sees the people she values again. The thought that they may all be dead sits somewhere in her mind, waiting, emerging when the night is long and cold, and Calpernia feels like she's the only one in the whole world who will remember her trusted agents.

After some time, the Inquisitor asks if there's something she would like to have in her room. "Books," she says without hesitation. Idleness is her biggest enemy. Left with nothing to do, she feels lost, _useless_. She's certain she will go mad without something that could occupy her mind.

There's nothing she can do when she lays at night trying to stay awake because all her dreams transform into nightmares she can hardly endure. So yes, books. Books would help. They always do.

The next day magister Pavus pays her a visit. She obviously knows who he is. Tevinter is a small place, especially when scandals are involved.

It's difficult to hide her surprise when one person she never expected to see again not only visits her, but also offers a book. Why would a _magister_ ever want to talk to someone like her? Don't they all know about her past? He surely has an ulterior motive, so Calpernia observes him with caution. She has to teach him it's not easy to fool her. Yet hearing Tevene brings her some odd sort of comfort.

He describes the book as, "Fairly interesting", and comes back two days later asking what she thinks about it.

"It's dull," she replies, honest because Calpernia never lies about books. "But I want to see how it ends."

Dorian laughs, and brings her something else to read the next day. Then he visits her more often. Telling him to leave her alone isn't an option, but the more Calpernia thinks about it, she's not so convinced he has a cunning plan to gain her trust and learn all her secrets.

 _Aren't we both pariahs?_ , she thinks one day, regarding him with genuine interest as he talks about chess.

"We should play a match. You seem like a worthy opponent."

Calpernia shakes her head. "I don't know how to play."

"I must teach you, then!" he announces with a mischievous grin, and she half expects him to be joking.

But he's not. When she asks him why he's being kind to her, his answer leaves her wonder.

"Because you're our _ally_ , are you not? We were on the opposite sides once but we should not dwell on the past too much, don't you think?" He gives her a curious look. "People here should realise there are more _good Tevinters_ out there. I swear, all Fereldans think we're bloodthirsty monsters!"

To her own surprise, Calpernia smiles.

 _Magister_ Pavus makes her cringe. _Dorian_ has a different sound. There is great magic in names, Calpernia knows.

* * *

She may go outside if she wants. There are guards everywhere, although they never stop or question her. They merely observe her sometimes, but it seems they are more curious about her because she's new here, not because she's their former enemy. Perhaps they don't even know she's the leader of the _despicable Venatori_ that the Inquisitor hunted all over Ferelden.

She's pretty sure the Inquisition put a tracking spell on her so they would never lose her even if she wished to escape. She doesn't intend to; she will return to Tevinter eventually, but not yet. There's still something that needs to be done.

It's a sunny day, so Calpernia takes a book to read outside in a spot she would call her favourite. Someone is watching her, an elf with short blond hair, dressed like one of the workers from the tavern.

When he finally decides to come closer, magic inside her wakes up from a deep slumber. She won't move a finger unless he attacks her first. It's would be impossible to later explain she was just trying to defend herself.

"Please forgive me, I didn't want to startle you," he begins.

She observes him, silent. He doesn't look threatening and sounds sincere enough, but he may as well be a good actor, an assassin hired to end her. Or maybe she's just getting paranoid.

"You don't recognise me, of course," he says without the smallest hint of accusation, like he got used to being invisible long time ago. "But I remember you. How could I ever forget you, Lady Calpernia."

He blushes. "I– I was told this is your name. I thought I saw a ghost when I saw you here in Skyhold the other day, and I had to ask– " His eyes grow wide with fear. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to sound rude, please forgive me."

"How do you know me?" she asks, curious. She can't remember this man but it seems like he truly knows her.

"I served a Tevinter magister since I was a child. He moved to Ferelden and took me with him. He was a… good man, but eventually he got bored with me," he explains with an apologetic smile.

 _No good man keeps slaves_. Calpernia already knows where this story is going, feeling rather foolish that the first thought she had about this man was so far from the truth.

"My master sold me to slavers who were going back to the Imperium. The caravan never made it… Because of you."

Too afraid to look her in the eyes, the elf stares at his own feet. Seeing this familiar reaction makes her heart ache.

"Me and other slaves were chained like animals, but I saw what happened. I saw everything. All slavers died that day, every single one of them. Your soldiers slashed them with swords, and then I say you, Lady Calpernia. I saw the anger on your face and fire in your hands, and I thought we will be next. Because this is what everyone else would do, kill the slaves or take them for themselves."

There's a part of her that wants him to stop talking. What she's seeing in his eyes is too close to devotion, _hope_ , the same way she used to look at a false god once.

"You didn't kill us. Instead you told us we're free, and asked us to join you if we wish. You spoke to us like we were people. You reminded us we are not objects. I would be honoured if I could… be your servant."

"You are a free elf," she interrupts quickly, slightly embarrassed.

"It's hard to believe sometimes." It's his turn to blush. "You did so much for me. If you ever need anything, I'll be more than happy to help you, Lady Calpernia."

 _I haven't done anything_. She wants to grab him by his shoulders and shake violently to wake him up. _There are still thousands of people and elves like you dreaming of freedom._

Calpernia bites her lip, silent. He wouldn't listen to her. From his perspective she already changed the world when she granted him the freedom he deserved.

Perhaps not all that she did was for nothing.

* * *

From what Dorian tells her (calling him by his name still feels strange but she will get used to it eventually), it appears people are curious about her.

"And scared," he explains as they walk outside one afternoon. "In their eyes you're still that scary Tevinter lady. They learned to like me, of course. I mean whet's there _not_ to like!"

Calpernia scoffs. This man is impossible sometimes.

"It took some time, however. I'm afraid you have to be patient if you want to make friends with the Inqusition."

"I'm not here to _make friends_!" she protests.

"You wound me," Dorian says in a mock serious voice.

"I'm here to…" she wants to continue, but her mind feels empty.

Her hand idly brushes the shape hanging from her neck. The metal touching her skin is warm. Dorian's eyes watch her with interest.

"I'm here to make things right," she says after a beat.

Dorian nods but doesn't question her further.

The next day she gets to speak to Varric. She rarely sees the dwarf, and she has never spoken to him before. Perhaps he talked to Dorian, because his first words are, "Well, you aren't as scary as most Tevinters I've met in my life…"

Hearing his complaints about getting back to _Kirkwall_ or else the city will implode without him keeping everything organised, Calpernia feels a distant ache in her chest. She bites her lower lip, questions nearly slipping out.

 _Tell me more about Kirkwall. Tell me about–_

She barely has enough self _–_ control to stop herself before it's too late.

Varric, as she soon learns, is very observant. "What's on your mind, Freckles?"

"Excuse me?" she blinks in surprise, face flushed.

" _Calpernia_ is a pretty name but I have a manner of calling everyone by nicknames, you see. And, well, you have freckles. You're not going to set me on fire, I hope?" he gives her an alarmed look. Even though it sounds like a joke, he's completely serious.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I will not set you on fire. For now."

"That's… good to hear," he laughs. "I must say, you are quite popular among the common folk. Void take me, when I listen to them I almost believe you are Andraste herself!"

He chuckles while Calpernia stares at him in confusion. She may feel a hot blush spreading on her face.

"I assure you, I am not."

"I've seen people talking about you with the same look on their faces that Donnic had that one time Aveline _…_ " he stops, noticing her confused stare. "Perhaps I'll tell you about it some other time. To be honest, I wanted to meet a woman who inspires so much devotion. Now I get why the Venatori had no other person but you as their leader."

She regards him with doubt. It's difficult to tell what this dwarf really wants. Calpernia isn't sure if he's making her annoyed or uncomfortable. Possibly both.

Fortunately Varric doesn't mention Kirkwall anymore. It would be difficult to resist the temptation to ask, but something tells her she doesn't want to hear what he has to say about the City of Chains and people who lived there.

She wants to ask someone else. One day, perhaps.

* * *

More time passes. How much, Calpernia isn't sure. Maybe she doesn't want to realise it's been so long. It's easier if she simply lets the time flow.

But it's been _too_ long, and when she wakes up one day, she is afraid to move. What if what awaits her is worse than her deepest nightmare? She fears what she will see once she gathers enough courage to request a visit. It's something she has to do or else…

Or else she will betray the one person she can't lose.

 _Hold yourself high, Venatori_ , she used to tell them. How she wishes she could believe her own words again.

Leliana doesn't ask any questions, simply agrees, leaving Calpernia wonder if the spymaster knew this would happen eventually. Of course she did. Leliana is the best spymaster in Thedas, there's no doubt about it.

 _This is not a good idea_ , a small voice whispers to her ear. A distant memory echoes inside her mind.

She follows a guard to a part of Skyhold she hasn't seen yet. It's far from a torture chamber, merely a regular prison holding their enemies until the Inquisitor decides what to do with them.

There are surprisingly many enemies of the Inquisition left alive. She doesn't recognise them all, it's enough that she knows some of them. Like the magister who's looking at her right now. It seems that Livius Erimond didn't change much, dirty clothes and messy hair aside.

Seeing his reaction Calpernia has to hide a smile. She doesn't bother to talk to him, _of course_ , but when she walks by his cell, she glances at him briefly. Realising it's her, he stares in shock, mouth opened wide. He looks so much like a fish taken out of water Calpernia nearly bursts into laughter. He has too much Tevinter pride to call out after her and beg for his freedom, though she suspects it will change sooner or later. Locked up in a prison like this, now that must be a nightmare for a man who knows nothing but luxury. It's truly a miracle the Inquisitor spared him; why, Calpernia doesn't know and frankly she doesn't care.

She recently got a message from his sister (Leliana was kind enough to pretend she didn't open and possibly copy the letter before handing it to Calpernia). It's uncertain how in the void Aeliana Erimond knows that the (former) leader of the Venatori currently resides at Skyhold, but Calpernia isn't worried about troops from Vyrantium storming the castle. From what Aeliana wrote it seems their family isn't exactly eager to negotiate freeing magister Livius. She's relieved her brother is alive but she also called him a fool at least five times in her relatively short letter. It's comforting to know that, contrary to him, she appears to be a decent human being.

Moving on, Calpernia hears whispers as other prisoners start to recognise her. She doesn't care about any of them. With each step her body feels heavier, something pulling her down with so much force it gets harder to move forward.

But she's a stubborn creature, she will get through this. There are no chains holding her in place. She didn't come this far only to turn back now.

Eventually the guard that accompanies her opens one of the identical door and steps aside. He is tactful enough to let her go inside the cell alone. She expected to see the darkest, deepest dungeon filled with rats, tiny cells packed with half mad prisoners. The Inquisitor is not a tyrant as Calpernia learned to her own surprise.

Part of her wants to believe it's not _him_. She nearly turns around to ask the guard if he brought her to the right person.

He's sitting on the bed, hunched like a man carrying tremendous weight on his back. Or a corpse someone put there for some unknown reason and propped with sticks so he wouldn't fall. The _Knight in Red_ she remembers is so different from the shadow Calpernia sees now. The whole world spins around her, for a second she's afraid she may collapse. Then she takes a deep breath and moves closer, ignoring the stench and the pitiful image in front of her eyes.

Kneeling down, close enough she could reach out and touch him if she wasn't so afraid he could crumble, Calpernia tells herself to stay calm. Over and over again, like a magic spell. Incredibly, it works.

If there was a way to deny what she's seeing, she probably would. It's too much to take. There's something horribly wrong in describing Samson as _fragile_.

When she could still save herself, he told her to leave. Now, with their god dead, there's so little of Samson left she wishes she could turn back time only to tell him whatever happens to her is insignificant, that he should think about his own fate.

Perhaps she should say something, but her mind is devoid of thoughts. She stays silent, although there's something inside her that screams.

Calpernia takes his hand, placing a small shape in his palm. It's difficult to believe it's the same hand that held that mighty sword, that held her, threatening to shatter her bones. It was long time ago, when they were both so stupid, and so blind, believing in empty promises of a false god.

There's something like a spark of life in his eyes as they move to the metal bird in his hand, although it's uncertain if he's conscious enough to recognise it. All that talk about his _natural resistance_ to red lyrium means nothing now.

Then Samson looks up, not seeing her at first, his eyes clouded with a fog of delirium. He's like a shadow of his former self, there's so little of him left she wavers, fear and doubt threatening to break her into little pieces, like a porcelain cup.

She stays, unmoving.

After many long minutes, something in his expression changes. Samson looks up and finally _sees_ her. Calpernia bites her lip hard so she can feel blood on her tongue. Despite everything that happened, it's still him.

Without hesitation she pulls him close in a desperate attempt to check if it's not a dream. It's all so painfully real her heart could burst.

"I'm here," she whispers, even though she's not sure Samson can hear her.

It feels… odd, not being alone, but Calpernia will get used to it. They both will.

* * *

A/N2:

I changed the ending four times. This is the final version, though I still don't know if it's the right one. I wrote it in August, and honestly I don't think that I could in any way improve the story now. It's not very interesting, so I understand that I should treat this series as something I wrote mainly for myself.

What a pity the fandom would rather hate or ignore the two characters that have so much potential. But that's just my personal opinion that doesn't matter much.

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.


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